


The Third Wheel

by dan_vs92



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fiddlestan Summer Bonanza, M/M, fiddlestan, i'll add more as the story goes on - Freeform, nsfw implied, some mention of blood, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dan_vs92/pseuds/dan_vs92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan had hoped for a relaxing get away with the love of his life but instead got another monster hunt when his brother decided to tag along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. misunderstandings, tourist, drizzle

The windshield wipers squeaked grinding at Stanly’s last nerve, the last four hours to go of this poor excuse of a vacation just kept getting better.

The radio had been muted after crossing the Arizona border line hours ago because a certain someone Stan didn’t remember inviting didn’t like his taste in music. An argument about directions and who knew best when it came to reading a map had nearly ended the three of their lives when Stan jerked the wheel too hard trying to snatch the map from his know it all brother’s clutches and had left them in a void of silence that had only been recently washed out by the pattering of the rain drops and the loud squeaks of the wipers.

In the rearview mirror he caught Ford sulking still, his lips thin and his head buried in his book, scribbling something in his diary, probably something demeaning about him in a code he thought he was too stupid to crack. 

A large flash caught him by surprise making him tense at the steering wheel and his formerly slumped shoulders to perk up. 

He shot a glare his boyfriend’s way who just smiled brighter taking the freshly developed photo from the Polaroid Camera Stan had acquired for him legally for his birthday, spending an arm and a leg just to see that smile.

The same one in fact that didn’t leave his face as he shook the picture until he was able to proudly show his boyfriend his angry reflection glaring straight out the window, the only difference between his demeanor now and then was he had better posture now.

“Precious memories for our first trip together,” Stan could hear the sarcasm oozing out of that statement. Neither were exactly happy that Ford had invited himself on their first romantic trip together in hopes of getting away from the stress of strange career choice for awhile. 

Fidds took it like the trooper he was, taking a deep breath, stretching his smile out and making a deal with his brother. They would assist him in capturing the supernatural creature he had his eye on if he would relax with them on their vacation and take the break he felt they all desperately needed. 

Stan couldn’t say he took it half as well when he got out of bed to find extra suitcases strapped and tarped on top his car and his brother in the back seat completely misunderstanding the point of this trip to Mexico. 

Fidds had been quick to rush to his side and quietly tripped over his words, eyes nervously taking glances towards his brother in the back seat who continued to write in his journal, oblivious as usual to the conversation taking place about him outside the car.

“I know this wasn’t part of the plan but I told ya, if we waited to tell him like you wanted he wouldn’t understand the nature of this trip. He thinks our little trip is a perfect opportunity to capture a chupacabra.”

“No, you go tell him that’s not what we’re doing,” Stan hissed at him glaring towards his brother, fists clenched beside him not wanting to spend such a long car ride listening to him plot and plan some weird creature he had no desire to deal with and its capture. 

“I tried to tell him but he won’t listen,” Fidds sighed glancing towards Ford in the back seat, “He’s a Pines and it’s in yer genes to be stubborn, stubborn men.”

Stan opened his mouth to argue but Fidds kissed him gently on the lips calming the anger ready to burst and silencing his words he would probably regret later.

“I think he just doesn’t like the idea of being stuck here alone for so long,” Fidds breath tickled his ears as he pulled him close, “I don’t think it has nothin’ to do with research this time around. I’m worried about him Stan, he’s not been himself in months and stress is getting to him. He stabbed himself with a fork last week!”

Stan became ridged at the memory glancing past his boyfriend’s fluffy hair tickling at his chin and took a long look at his brother, the bandages from the event still there. Stan hadn’t been there and only heard of the aftermath from a shaken, sobbing Fidds who had taken it harder than Ford who acted like it wasn’t such a big deal.

He ran his fingers through Fidds hair and groaned in exaggerated annoyance his brother could come if only to ease Fidds’s worries and possibly his own. 

Many years ago, months after Carla had left him forever, he’d found peace in the beach front village he planned to have a romantic retreat with his lover, maybe Ford could find some piece of mind there as well.

Even if his brother tagging along was for the best it didn’t make it any less aggravating and annoying that he had to be crammed into a car for hours on end with his brother he didn’t always have the greatest relationship with.

The realization that he may not get any adult activity he had planned for if another room wasn’t vacant didn’t clear his bad mood either.


	2. Chapter 2

“If everything goes to plan, we will have caught the elusive little devil before dawn breaks and we can go spend the rest of our day doing tourist…stuff.” 

Those were the wise words Ford had promised six hours ago. 

They were all sweltering in the harsh heat now, lost in the desert after chasing down the blurred outline of the reclusive creature they were hunting just before the sun began to rise over the mountains. 

Stan glanced forward to see Fidds, skin fully baked and glowing a bright red, gulping down water from Ford’s canteen. His hair and cloths were drenched with sweat and his eyes were half lidded against the blaring sun. Ford beside him, eying Fidds warily as he rolled up the long sleeves of his button up shirt before popping a few of the buttons open in a weak attempt to drive out some of the heat. 

While both twins were quite red from their long commute with nature, the sun really took its toll on Fidds’s poor body. His khaki shorts and short sleeved button up tacky shirt left his pale skin more exposed to the harsh sun rays. 

Fidds handed the canteen back to Ford who took a large gulp before passing it back to Stan, Stan groaned in annoyance shaking it and hearing the water swish loosely at the bottom. This would not be enough to keep meandering around blindly in this heat. All three were at the verge of a heat stroke as it was, the plans of having a nice breakfast in the nice little restaurant across from their hotel and spending the rest of the day relaxing under the beach towels and umbrella in the car had long since been ruined. All Stan wanted now was to be able to go back to the room and pass out on the one bed they had to share with Ford (it made getting intimate very unlikely on this trip from hell). 

Despite his dry throat, Stan made the bold decision to try to conserve some of their water by only taking a few small sips. It was only enough to moisten his mouth and not for long as they continued their trek through the barren land scape, Stan glared at the vultures watching them closely sitting atop one of the few desert trees sprinkled throughout the vast, never ending landscape. 

The sand was like hot coal underneath their feet, even with the foot wear protecting them. Ford snapped his journal shut more than once and shook his head rapidly and adjusting his glasses, Stan knowing those were common actions for him when he had a pulsing head ache. 

Fidds’s breathing was rapid and Stan had taken him close to him practically holding him up at this point stopping every once and awhile for him to vomit after an hours’ worth of occasional mention of a sick stomach, pleading with Ford to head back the way they came that no one could remember at this point. 

Stan watched Ford closely as he began mumbling to himself, asking where the creature could have gone and if something could please help him out. They needed to get out of this heat and now. It was going to get them all a trip to the hospital if they didn’t find their way back to the farm where Stan had parked the car. 

Two days before hand, they had arrived at their hotel minutes before midnight, while Stan had been down stairs arguing with the manager to give him another room, using every trick he had up his sleeve to get his way and failing to get his wish of not having to share a bed with his self-invited brother; Ford was upstairs unrolling magazine articles to Fidds that would soon land them in their current predicament. 

Fidds was half asleep digging through the suit case for his pajamas when Ford slid a ripped out article his way. Fidds picked it up and squinted trying to focus on it through his blinding, blurry exhausted eyes. 

“Farmer claims to have shot and killed a chupacabra but there is still one roaming around his farm, killing his livestock,” Fidds read aloud in a drawl tone, setting down his sleep wear. He quirked his eye brow, giving Ford that look both twins knew very well. 

Before his name could leave Fidds’s thinly stretched lips Ford began to try to justify why he was bringing it up now when it was already agreed upon that the first day would be relaxing, meaning no talk of the supernatural. 

“I know, Fidds,” he said almost bashfully, his fingers twitching in a cute, childish way that made Fidds relax his hands from his hip and hear his closest friend out.   
“I promised this all could wait and it shall, I promise,” he cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around Fidds thin shoulders leading him to the bed and sitting him down to say what he wanted to say more comfortably. 

“But while at our last rest stop I was finally able to contact Marco,” there was childlike joy burning through his movements, words and smile that made Fidds smile brightly at his friend pretending for a moment he wasn’t plotting out a dangerous adventure for them to partake on. 

“The farmer?” 

“He is the very one! And he and I had a very lengthy discussion about what has been going on involving the creature.” 

“Is that what ya were doing for so long? Stanly had a very crude theory of why ya would be in the restroom for over an hour…” 

Ford turned a bright red and his mouth began twitching unable to decide on being offended by his brother’s thoughts or embarrassed by them but ultimately he cleared his throat once more and tried to keep his face neutral as he tried to explain everything as best as he could, his cheeks still flushed a light pink. 

“He lives not too far from here and has agreed to let us into his home and capture the beast for our research on Thursday, giving us a day of ‘relaxation’ before we try to find the creature and I promise you Fidds, it won’t be long, just the morning before the sun rises and then it’s back to doing tourist nonsense for the remainder of our time here!” 

Fidds smiled brightly pulling his friend into a tight hug, “Thank you, Ford. Don’t ya worry none about this trip being boring with or without catching a monster, ya might even like the time off.” 

Ford pulled Fidds closer to him silently making a promise to not ruin this trip for them at the same moment a very crabby and wore out Stan finally came back into the room. Suspicion momentarily clouded his judgment taking in his boyfriend pulled tightly against his brother’s chest and six fingers curled lightly on the back of his lover’s sandy locks.   
It didn’t last long as the two broke apart and Fidds’s smile bright as the morning dawn hit him, a forced smile crossing Stan’s lips at the sight of it. Even after Fidds greeted him with a kiss, he continued to stare suspiciously towards his brother.  
\----   
Six hours before they found themselves lost and roasting under the intense sun light, they had all piled into Stan’s car for an hour and a half drive far away from the tourist town they were currently residing in to the Rodriguez farm house. Located in the middle of nowhere far away from any major towns and no neighbors for miles. 

The one hour and forty-minute car ride had been long and tense, Stan felt something akin to jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach at how chummy Fidds and his brother were being. Fidds leaning over the side of the front seat and conversing openly with Ford about things Stan couldn’t say he understood or cared to understand. 

The strange feeling had been bubbling since yesterday, a day he thought would be filled with him and Fidds bonding was instead spent with Ford and Fidds bonding and he had somehow become the awkward third wheel. On the trip he himself had planned out. 

The day was filled with Fidds taking lots of unnecessary pictures of everything that could be found in the brochure and plenty of pictures of Ford acting like the know it all he was, explaining the history behind various art pieces Stan felt he did not know before walking into the building. Most of the info could be found in the pamphlets that Ford had to get the English copies of Stan was amused to find out, but he was unable to show off his ability to read the language he had learned coming in and out of this country for years to his boyfriend. 

Instead he found lurking behind the two like a shadow most of the day, being hushed by his uninvited brother with every annoyed grumble that came out of his mouth. Watching from a distance as Ford ended up being the one to have most of the man he loved’s attention. 

Fidds giggles would have been cuter to Stan if they didn’t leave his brother glowing a light pink and smile as widely as he was as he became more and more overconfident with what sounded like outrageous claims about the painters behind the works. 

He said nothing about any of it but waking up to Fidds unconsciously facing his brother and their heads sharing the same pillow left his insides in knots. 

He didn’t know why he was still being paranoid about any of this watching them from the corner of his eye being too chummy with each other, he expected or maybe wanted Fidds to be just as annoyed with Ford tagging along with them as he was. Maybe a bit aggressive or a tad bit spiteful this morning about having to spend their morning chasing after another one of Ford’s monsters but that wasn’t Fidds, he knew that. Why was he so bothered by his friendliness then? 

He tried taking his mind off the situation taking in the farm house ahead of them. 

It wasn’t a big home, just a small ranch house big enough for the young couple and their new born son to live comfortably. The large gate from the recently put up fence had been left open for them to enter which wasn’t surprising in the least. Ford had planned their arrival early in the morning when Marco claimed he saw the creature most. 

“Oh my,” Fidds gasped out as they entered the yard and Stan had to break to allow a row of chickens run by and disappear into a hen house ahead, “It’s just like the hog farm I grew up on!” 

Stan watched the excitement bubbling up on Fidds face beside him leaning over him a little to get a better look at the hand crafted, well-structured hen house half obscured by the darkness. Last year Fidds had made the twins make pilgrimage to his old farm house for Thanksgiving to have the real ‘southern experience’ and by all accounts the Rodriquez farm was a mansion compared the falling apart shack Fidds grew up on. The only thing even comparable about the two was they were both presumably hand me down patches of land that came from their parents. 

“Don’t get too excited about it, Fidds,” Ford chuckled, “I was informed they don’t own any pigs.” 

Fidds shot him a smug look, “Worried I would bring one home?” 

“You already forced me to keep the one beside you and he makes enough of a mess.” 

Stan grit his teeth at the comment and both seemed to sense his bad mood so they became quiet once more making guilt sink inside him watching his brother scribble something in his book in the back seat and Fidds let out a heavy sigh beside him. 

When their head lights hit the man waiting for them on the patio, his sigh of relief almost made it past his lips. 

The man smiled warmly towards them waving enthusiastically but he didn’t leave his seat on the patio until they walked up towards him, Stan noted the revolver on his lap and Fidds taking the same precaution beside him, casting his eyes around the front yard looking for any hint of the creature the home owner would need to keep a gun so close at hand for. 

“No need to worry, the beast won’t appear up here,” he told them he had a heavy accent but his English was very good. He stepped down from the steps and held his hand out for Stan to shake, he was a head shorter than the Pines but had broader shoulders. He was a decade younger than them by the notes Stan had glanced at from Ford’s journal and his baby face and lack of facial hair made him look it. 

“It’s very nice to meet a man who not only believes me but is an expert in this line of work, Dr. Pines,” Stan had a very smug smile on as he shook the man’s hand, loving the annoyed expression his brother was shooting him in the corner of his eye. 

“I’m actually Dr. Pines but you may call me Stanford or Ford if you like,” Ford said stepping forward, with his hand stretched out that Marco took with slight confusion.   
“This is my twin brother Stanly and my assistant Dr. Mcgucket or Fiddleford if you like.” 

Marco stared at the three for a moment taking in their strange names before he gave them all a large welcoming grin ushering the three into his home as if they were old friends. Stan couldn’t help but note his gun stayed propped up in his arm giving him easy access to pull the trigger if anything became astray, his eyes searching over his dark quiet land.   
Stan stood in the door way to wait for the man but he smiled brightly at Stan and asked him to meet his wife in the kitchen for coffee. He took a final glance out the open window to see him heading towards the gate to lock up, keeping his gun close and his head was moving at each noise, paranoid about whatever was out there, waiting in the shadows. 

The strong aroma of coffee perked their heads towards the kitchen, both Fidds and Ford’s addiction to the concoction began to peak as they perked their head up. Stan rolled his eyes taking in the small but cozy little ranch house. The living room was the first room they walked into, with little furnishing but plenty of personal touches from the couple with a theme that reflected their culture and pictures overflowing on the wall of the couple’s new born baby leading them to the kitchen past the two bedrooms and one bathroom. 

“Dr. Pines, I presume?” a young lady who looked like she just rose from bed greeted them. She was a head taller than her husband and shoulders almost as broad but their biggest similarity were the bags under their eyes. Most would assume it was from the new born but the boarded up windows he had noticed through the house told Stan otherwise. 

“Please, Mrs. Rodriquez, call me Ford,” Ford greeted extending his hand, she didn’t take it at first staring at his extra finger for a few moments making Ford squirm in discomfort but she seemed to take it without much question. 

They sat in relative silence around the small round kitchen table waiting for Marco to return inside from patrolling the perimeter. 

The young woman was very tense sitting at her spot at the table, drumming her fingers and barely touching her coffee. She offered to make them breakfast but the offer was declined by Fidds politely. Stan may have been inclined to take the free meal but he knew this family relied on their livestock for income and with it disappearing the way it was they probably didn’t have enough to feed their own, none the less three strangers. 

Marco’s appearance was the thing that finally put his wife at ease and she straightened up instantly at the sight of him coming through the back door. 

“I’ve checked around the perimeter Dr. Ford and there isn’t sign of the creature yet but he will be here soon. He’s always here between three and five am.” 

“Yes,” Ford began pulling his journal from his jacket and opening it up to a half complete page with a rough, incomplete sketch, “As we discussed on the phone, that’s why we came down here so early in the morning. Your traps we discussed haven’t worked?” 

Marco shook his head, his bangs that looked like they needed a trimming falling into his eyes. 

“He’s very quick and smart, the only reason I was able to get the last one was because I got lucky and was able to shoot it while was feasting on my goat and I pulled the trigger before it could see me. And I promised not to kill it this time for you, Doctor.” 

“Before we begin, I would like to review what we know so far to get everyone caught up to date on what we are hunting and what its capable of.” 

“No one believes the creature is a chupacabra, the authorities claim it’s just another coyote with a case of the mange and the creature could be mistaken for a common mutt if it wasn’t for the way it drains my goats dry of their blood. It leaves no marks on the corpse, like a vampire.” 

Ford read from the journal and Marco nodded his head, resting his hand on his wife’s shoulder as she became tense. 

“When I talked to you last, the creature hadn’t been seen for a few nights but the goats were becoming more restless like it was still prowling out there.”   
Marco again just nodded solemnly rubbing his wife’s am, pulling her closer. Fidds looked very uneasy next to Stan, he reached under the table and squeezed his boyfriend’s smaller fingers reassuringly, Stan knew he was nervous like he always was when they had to go out on the line like this but he always kept his promise on this.   
Nothing was getting between him and protecting Fidds. 

Ford turned his journal towards Marco so he could have a good look at his line sketches quickly done out in pencil to be easily erased.   
“Is this what the creature looked like?” 

Marco once more nodded kissing his wife on the head before heading to the back door, his back tense and his eyes were antsy shooting around the small area. Stan noticed Fidds knee bouncing faster as he stared at the picture it seemed Ford had gone out of his way to look grotesque, like something out of a horror movie with all the blood foaming at its mouth and claws pinning the dying, helpless goat to the ground. 

“Let’s not waste much time, Doctor. I haven’t seen the beast yet but he will be here soon. If you wish to capture him, we must be smarter and faster than the little devil is.”   
\---   
It was nearing four am and it was still pitch black. 

The crickets chirping and crunching of their boots on the dying grass became white noise to Stan eyes constantly moving, trying to get a better estimation of the terrain they were at when the beast arrived. 

He kept his flashlight pointed straight ahead and his arm steady but beside him, Fidds was becoming fidgety. The tremors running their course through his body at everything from the crunching grass to the restless goats not happy with being locked up in the barn straight ahead. 

Stan rolled his eyes becoming annoyed with the one light not in sync with the others, leading their path straight ahead across the two-acre farm that had a foot-high barb wire fence running around the perimeter now. As they drew closer towards their destination, Stan finally snatched Fidds shaking light away from him not being able to stand the zig zagging light source shooting all around the barn any longer. 

Fidds for his part didn’t seem to mind the minimal weight being lifted from his fingers and just moved his hand to tighten his fingers around his back pack straps. Nervously darting his eyes back and forth, more often than even Marco who actually knew what this beast was capable of. While their host was distracted, Stan took this moment to pull Fidds close kissing him reassuringly but quickly on the top of the head and rubbing his hand soothingly against his shoulder. 

All eyes away from them focused on getting inside the barn, Ford holding the flashlight while Marco went through his keys for the various locks standing between them and the crime scene. For just a few seconds it was only Stan and the man who made him feel alive, made him feel wanted and made him feel loved, huddled together for the moment in the darkness. Fidds head pressed against Stan’s beating heart, his own racing pulse slowing and even out to beat in harmony with man’s besides him.   
Stan kissed him once more before departing from this serene scene before one the men ahead of them’s flashlight hit them. Marco may be a kind man now but Stan didn’t want to push his luck and see if he would tolerate everything. 

Stan turned his head away from that dazzling smile filled with all the thank yous that would be being whispered in his ear as his fingers caressed his face if they were alone, but while in the presence of a stranger and his brother, Stan didn’t want his flushed cheeks to be seen. 

Reality of the situation made the day dream in Stan’s head die as he heard the rattling of the chains stop and the loud thump of them falling to the ground. They didn’t enter right away though. Fidds briefly grasped Stan’s hand and took a deep breath. Marco seemed confused and his hands were quaking as he momentarily put his head on the barn door, the loud restless goats were inside their tone and volume not changing since they stepped outside. Ford was not the type to be cautious and took control of the situation, ignoring the fear in their hosts eyes and shoves the door open himself. 

Opening the door was like opening Pandora’s box. 

A loud wave of panicked cries echoed within in the barn, Stan instantly grabbed Fidds by the shoulders shoving him away from the angry creatures racing to freedom. Stan pinned Fidds tightly underneath him, tucking him firmly away from the danger of the goats. No more than twenty Stan would later realize but right now it felt like there were hundreds, stomping and crying out and aggressively budding their horns into anyone who stood in their path. 

Goats weren’t always the friendliest of creatures to begin with but in their panic they were nothing but prime instinct only wanting to get away from whatever was inside that barn. Stan began to rise enough to see Marco trying to calm his heard and wrestle them back inside but they were having none of his commands.   
Ford had one large goat by the horns shoving it back, his feet buried half in the grass and Stan was very amused to see he was using the old boxing stance.   
Just as Stan was easing himself off his boyfriend to help, making sure there was no immediate danger to him before he rose completely from him, he caught sight of a goat rearing up behind Marco trying in vain to push another goat off of him and smashed into his side making him lose balance and topple hard onto the ground slamming his head onto a rock on the way down. 

A loud howl, like a coyote’s, was what finally made the scared goats stop fighting against the humans in their way and begin making a steady retreat to the other side of the yard.  
Ford managed to shove his goat away before rushing to Marco’s side. The worst of this little endeavor seemed to be coming to a close as the goats all began to rush away from the barn, four men and whatever was residing inside the barn. 

“Fidds,” Stan called, not taking his eyes from the dark entrance of the barn, quickly putting on his brass knuckles that had never failed him in a fight before and crouching on the ground unzipping his duffle bag with haste and extracting his trusty ball bat from it. The wood was splintering at the edges and there were thick blood stains from the many brawls it had been used it before but it hadn’t failed him in the past and it wouldn’t fail him now. 

In the corner of his eye he caught Ford pulling out a special stun gun from his bag that he and Fidds had spent months designing and crafting for situations such as this. To ‘safely take down a creature without risk of permeant injury to it or you’ they had said but Stan scoffed at it then as he did now, it had nothing on good old fashioned brute force.   
“Ya want me to stay out of this and get Marco help,” Fidds finished for him during his distraction. Stan shot him a smug grin and shrugged, what could he say? They were so perfect they complete each other’s sentences. 

“That would be good too but I wanted yer gun.” 

Fidds quirked his eyebrow in the way he always did when he wanted to be stern with Stan but the situation amused him too much and sighed loudly before taking out his already loaded hand gun he always kept on him. Just in case. 

“This was my grandfather’s gun, Stanly Pines,” Fidds began as he always did sliding the gun into Stan’s awaiting grasp, “Do not chuck it at the beast to destroy after ya remember a city slicker like you can’t aim for squat.” 

“Don’t give me that! Yer half blind---“ 

“And can hit a gryphon, right in a pressure point that wouldn’t kill it might I add, before it had a chance to make ya its supper.” 

Stan became glower at the memory, it wasn’t entirely his fault out of the three of them he had the tastiest muscle the beasts wanted to eat. 

Fidds took Stan by surprise grabbing the back of his head and slamming their lips together, a pleasant surprise though Stan considered wrapping his arms firmly around his boyfriend giving him a farewell for now kiss. 

“Be careful,” he whispered wrapping his arms tight around him kissing him on the ear, “And look after your brother. Out of the two of ya he’s the one more likely to do something stupid or dangerous.” 

“I can hear you, Fidds,” Ford called pouting from where he stood, glowing a light pink watching the couple say their fare wells.   
“Good cause it ain’t a lie.” 

With that the three parted ways, Fidds running to the house to get Maria to help him care for Marco and the two brothers standing in front of uncertainty, taking what could be their last deep breaths before turning into the unknown without glancing back to where Fidds had stopped to looked towards them in worry before continuing forward on his own mission.   
\---   
Stan kept a tight grip on his bat as he entered first, Ford behind him finger resting on the trigger of his hand made gun. 

The air smelled dank and wet, the only light was the light peeking through the cracks on the ceiling. It smelled dead and decaying making both brothers crinkle their noses and hold their breath. Ford slid his flashlight back in his jacket after hearing a cracking noise and put his hand in front of Stan stopping him from going any farther. 

Stan got a better grip on his bat looking straight ahead, Ford tapped on his shoulder and whispered for him to be on his guard as they moved forward hearing the low moans of a cow, mewling in displeasure. 

They didn’t have to walk much farther to come face to face with the creature they had been looking for, its head shrouded in darkness rising up from the cows neck it had been feeding on, its glowing yellow eyes meeting them. 

It was no bigger than a sewer rat but the way it hopped up on its victim’s body, it’s large ears pointed down and its paws’ claws all extended, piercing into the moaning milk cow. The cracks in the wall casting across it to illuminate the blood still running from its fangs that were bared and snarling their way with its inhuman eyes pointed towards them, it felt like a larger threat then it was. 

It was a fast little thing, before either brother had time to prepare, it launched itself into the air and latched its teeth it Ford who yelled out in surprise, dropping his weapon.   
Stan stifled a laugh, of course the ugly little rat would go straight for his brother, this would be the running joke he would be repeating from now till the end of the trip he knew but he couldn’t have as much fun bringing this up in casual affair if his brother was dead so he latched tightly onto the ugly creature and began tugging.   
Its claws buried deep into Ford’s jacket, ripping into it. 

“Use the Stun Gun, Stanly!” Ford yelled shoving at the creature. 

“And if I hit you while its struggling like this?!” 

“So be it!” 

Stan gave his brother an incredulous look and just had to wonder if he was really the smart twin out of the two before letting go of the snarling, struggling creature. He picked up the gun and tried to get a good shot with it struggling the way it was, Ford making the situation harder now rolling around the ground with it, trying to keep it from causing serious harm. Blood and spittle raining down on Ford as he tried to wrestle it into submission and it refusing to go down, snarling, hissing and clawing all the way.   
Stan held his breath as he took a literal shot in the dark, a string of electricity flying out and completely missing the target inches away from where Ford’s head had been seconds before. The creature let out a whimper similar to scared dog and detached itself from Ford and scampered behind them quickly, disappearing behind them mewling and whimpering just as frightened milk cow. 

Ford shot a glare at Stan, yanking the gun from his hands while he smiled cheekily at his brother before hurrying behind Ford who was already racing to the exit.   
Outside they found a frightened Fidds jumping up from Marco’s side where he and Maria were treating him. 

“Ford---!” Fidds began instantly pulling some bandages out to treat Ford’s miniscule injuries. Ford shook off his concern. 

“We must move quickly, Fidds, we’ll get Marco inside, you just get our supplies from the car, we need to catch up with the beast before it gets too far.”  
\---   
Now, hours later all three were too tired to keep walking, crowded together under a desert tree providing a measly amount of shade. Each taking a small drizzle of their limited amount of water, breathing heavily. 

Stan’s eyes kept being directed towards the buzzard perched up on top of the tree, glaring intensely at it. The heat was making him as paranoid as it was making him dizzy, if he had his sense about him he would have seen that it was just trying to cool down like they were and wasn’t paying any attention to the strangers in its territory.   
Stan only saw a threat though and one finger in his pocket, curled around his brass knuckles waiting to draw it out in case the buzzard had any bright ideas. Even when the buzzard proved it wasn’t a threat, spreading its wings and flying far away from the three, Stan kept his finger in his pocket liking the cooling effect the metal had on his burning hands. 

Fidds’s watch, ticking louder than Stan ever remembered it being, was the only thing telling them how long they had been out here and a constant reminder that if they didn’t get out of this it was running risk of their health’s. 

“Ah—Fidds!” 

“If ya would hold still, Stanford, I would be able to get this done faster!” 

His eyes were hard as he watched Fidds scooting farther away from him and closer to his brother, fingers caressing his face in that way he only thought he held him, tilting his head back farther to examine the large cut on the side of his face. 

Fidds gently cleaning the scratches lining his brother’s cheeks, the way his thumb gently smoothed the bandages on once more had Stan on edge, his teeth grinding behind his deepening frown. 

Stan saw the content smile on Ford’s face as Fidds cleaned and bandaged his face and the way one hand was now resting on his boyfriend’s leg. 

When his hand rested on Fidds cheek making him groan in pain and stiffen his back, Stan could hear the grind of his jaw. 

“Do you have any burn ointment in your bag, Fidds? You look really bad,” the way his hand shook nervously as he pushed up Fidds bangs and pulled his eyes open farther to better inspect them made his stomach boil. He knew his brother and he knew this was how he acted around people he had crushes on, not his friends or patients. Everything from that dumb smile to his shaking hands to the dumb jokes he had been telling Fidds, were signs of a crush. 

If Stan didn’t know any better, he would think the only reason his brother came on this trip was to steal his boyfriend. Carefully planning ways to really show his lover how much better suited he was for him… 

The hand on his cheek made him jump, he blinked and directed his focus on Fidds’s concerned face. On hand delicately placed on his cheek to not disturb his sun burn and the other holding the burn cream. 

“Are ya in pain Stanly?” he scooted closer to him and Stan began to untense feeling like the heat had done a number on him. His fists were tight at his side but slowly began to unwind as Fidds carefully began rubbing the ointment on his face, placing gentle kisses on his face as he did so. 

He pulled him close after he finished up kissing him on the forehead, turning a brighter shade of red in his embarrassment. This heat was getting to him… 

Before long, Marco pulled up to them in his truck smiling brightly to have finally found them. Ford sat up front admitting his defeat to the man and swearing they would catch the beast on a later day. 

Stan however tuned him out, just staring at Fidds who looked content leaning against the window, eyes half lidded breathing in the cool air. He rested his hand on top of his never wanting to lose him to anything.  
\---  
They rested at the little farm the rest of the day and well into the evening. Maria was a kind woman, treating their burns with an old recipe that she had gotten from her mother and whatever it was burned the instant it touched their skin but slowly began to cool and relax their muscles all three settled in the living room on the young woman’s strict orders to rest while she went to town to take care of some errands with her husband. 

Stan sank into the well-worn arm chair and claimed the remote, shooting a smug smile his brother’s way. Ford rolled his eyes at his brother’s childish antics and sunk into the far end of the three seated couch and Fidds took the side closest to Stan. He smiled at him and rested his fingers on Stan’s and kept purposely grating at his lover’s nerves asking what they were saying every few minutes. 

Stan sometimes hated the bad influence he had on the gentle little man next him but as he held his tongue and held his fingers gently in his grasp before releasing them when Fidds shifted away from him, finally fast asleep, he found he liked the good influence Fidds rubbed off on him. 

Fidds had passed out onto Ford’s lap some time during the broadcast and instead of pushing him away, Ford rested his hand on Fidds hair, making his boyfriend relax in his slumber more as Ford patted his head absentmindedly, flipping through the notes he had made for the day concerning his prey. 

A strange feeling began bubbling to the surface again and he felt it through out diner watching as Ford and Fidds didn’t miss a beat theorizing their next move to capture the beast. Fidds analyzing and correcting the ideas Ford spewed out before finally deciding he didn’t wish to talk about this anymore for a few days at least. 

Stan felt a tiny bit of satisfaction as he saw Fidds’s annoyed glare hit Ford after he kept trying to pull him back into a discussion he wanted no part in. 

That small bit of satisfaction didn’t last though, after dinner as payment for their kindness, Ford and Fidds agreed to help Maria fix her washer that hadn’t worked right in months. Stan watched from the kitchen table, beer in hand. Taking long, slow drinks as he watched in contempt as his brother made him feel inadequate, getting that laugh out of his boyfriend from his terrible puns. 

He turned away trying to tune out their giggles and jokes and focused on the beer he was nursing in his hand.  
Three hours later and after a long car ride, he found himself pulling his boyfriend very close to him that night a primal fear raging inside him that would be losing someone else he loved and his brother would once more prove he was better than him.


	3. Chapter 3

Stan stifled his loud moan of pain, peeling the sheets from his sensitive skin every curse word he knew flaring deep in his mind lying on the tip of his tongue.   
He glanced down at Fidds, passed out to the world after yesterday, nothing short of an explosion could wake him up now Stan suspected kissing him on the forehead and watching him bury his head deeper into his pillow continuing to snore. 

He saw six fingers lazily laying across his boyfriend’s arm and that strange feeling he hadn’t been able to shake began to slowly consume him once more. Growing inside him like weeds that wrapped his heart and squeezed it. He couldn’t stop hearing Carla whispering I love you and always will before disappearing from his life forever, yelling she didn’t want to hear his insane theories and just wanted him to leave her alone. 

The aching burn screaming from his fingers as he tightened his fist together helped calm him enough to not wake either up with rash accusations of their relationship enough to remove himself from the scene and go take a shower to calm his racing treacherous thoughts. 

He kept the pounding spray cool to help ease the burning sensation pulsing from his face, neck and arms. It would have been more soothing without the constant stream of unwanted thoughts, clumping up in his mind. 

He began to remember not too long ago, Fidds curled into his lap strumming his banjo on the front porch, both taking a breather before Ford woke up and wanted to trek down to the space for parts. 

“Hey, so tell the truth am I yer first kiss nerd?” Stan asked smug smile spreading across his face at Fidds’s confusion that coloring his cheeks red. 

“Well I was married…” 

Stan rested his hand on his shaking knee kissing him on the cheek wondering what was getting his little lover so stirred up. 

“So I’m the best you ever got then? I’m sure yer first kiss was to a huge dork who didn’t know what he was doing, right?” 

His cheeks continued to darken, his fingers tightening around the neck of his banjo, teeth grinding on his bottom lip and blue eyes refusing to meet his. Stan kept his fingers firm on his knee to keep it from bruising knocking against his banjo like it was. 

He didn’t understand why Fidds was so anxious about this subject that was meant to be playful. He took a deep breath not wanting to pressure Fidds anymore and change the subject but Fidds had beaten him to the punch and practically whispered what was on his mind that made a new, indescribable and strange feeling begin forming inside him.   
“Stanford, m-ma first kiss was to Stanford…”   
“My…brother…?” 

“Please don’t be mad, Stanly, it was a very long time ago! We were young and in college and thought we would be together forever but things changed. Ford disappeared from my life for a few years after his grant and I got married.” 

Stan couldn’t find any words to say to that, he just sat in the silence and held down Fidds knees to keep them still. He didn’t say anything else about it nor did he the next time he saw the two of them close together. Ford sitting by Fidds’s sick bed after he was attacked by the gremloblin and being more gentle with him then he ever thought his brother was capable of. 

He had been trying to drown this feeling that Fidds deep down only thought of him as a replacement for his brother and one day he would want the original, bona fide version and not the sweaty smellier version of him but it just stayed in the back of his mind festering and growing each time he noticed how much chemistry the two really had.   
Two nerds who worked like a team and knew each other inside out, where did Stan fit into this equation? 

He came out of his long shower to find Fidds curled on his side of the bed, almost like he was waiting for him to return and he climbed back into bed and pulled him close. Savoring what could be one of the final times he breathed in his scent and curled himself tight around his lithe frame. 

A few weeks before this little trip away from home, Fidds had accidentally called Stan ‘Stanford’. Stan knew it wasn’t on purpose to hurt him, his boyfriend hadn’t slept in three days and the coffee fueling him was running on E. 

He had noticed his mistake instantly and apologized profusely, blushing and finger curling around a strand of hair knowing just by Stan’s stiff posture that he had struck a nerve. Stan was smart enough to know it would do no good for their relationship to start something up about nothing so he kept his silence. 

He began planning this trip around that time, not wanting to completely lose someone who made him feel so alive again but it seemed fate was determined to break another relationship he was so content in. He couldn’t lose that bright smile, he couldn’t live without that concerned tone that always begged him not to do something stupid, he didn’t want to go back to waking up alone and miserable in his car. 

He ran his fingers gently through Fidds’s fluffy hair and kissed him on the tip of his nose. He’d gotten lucky the last time he drove an ex-lover he was convinced was his soul mate’s new man’s car in a ravine, would he be this time?   
\---  
The day was spent in the hotel room. The only thing worth noting to Fidds’s was the wall Stan seemed to have built between himself and the rest of the world.   
Breakfast and lunch were eaten in near silence at the restaurant they had all enjoyed and carried a pleasant atmosphere into the first day on their trip. None of them even looking up from their plates, Ford had brought the journal and occasionally mentioned his plans for the coming days but he was firmly ignored by Stan who seemed to be holding his tongue in the public setting if only for Fidds’s sake. Fidds more picked at his meals rather than eating them, keeping one hand firmly on his bouncing knee in an effort to keep it still. 

Fidds had initially felt like this trip was going to wash away the heavy tension that clouded over the three and cleanse it from their lives hopefully forever.   
The hope that this trip could still turn around for the better laid dormant inside him creeping closer and closer to the surface as he sat at the desk in the room, the only member of their trio still awake after the hectic day yesterday proved to be, taping the curtains shut in his make shift dark room developing the photos from the trip thus far. He had already used up an entire roll in just one day but it was the most relaxing day the three had in quite some time. 

As he worked on developing each photo piece by piece, dipping each picture into the solution gently before hanging it up to dry he felt like a soothing, relaxing aura had settled around him. 

Despite the snag that occurred yesterday that lead into the negativity today, they still had time to connect to each other again on this trip and for things to just calm enough for them to be happy together again. 

Ford’s bright smile he felt he hadn’t seen in so long glowing in the dark, not since the portal had started. His obsession with finishing it got worse with each passing day and he was slowly drowning in that stress. 

If Fidds were honest, watching his oldest friend get this way was wearing him down and if Stan hadn’t been by his side holding him above the surface with his love and support, he would have sunk under the waves of anxiety, fear and stress that clashed against him each day watching Ford’s slow decline and his behaviors that kept getting odder and odder. 

They all seemed to happen when Stan wasn’t around, as if they stayed dormant until Fidds was alone with him. His fear for Ford may outweigh it but something deep down made him fear Ford the way he would sometimes go out of his way to demean or mock his work with that smile that was so…predatorily. 

He turned his attention away from Ford’s smiling face, setting his hand firmly on his knee to calm its rapid movement. He focused instead on Stan’s smug grin, winking at him as he stole key chains from the gift shop as petty revenge for being caught grabbing the edges of the one of the famous pieces displayed getting in trouble with security. 

Stan was his rock, always giving him the foundation he needed. It always felt like he and Ford were out of sync, his friend always brushing off his concern or outright ignoring it, Stan always just seemed to know. He could be insensitive but he was all hot air when it came to his tacky jokes and insults. He always knew what was too far and how to help Fidds regain his piece of mind. 

An exhaustion was settling into his bones after working so long with only the white noise of the twins’ snores, Ford stretched across the comfortable chair in the corner he had fought Stan over earlier and Stan finally having the bed to himself. 

Fidds smiled laying down next to Stan who had fallen asleep in the middle of his soap opera. He snuggled as close to him as his sore body would allow and smiled brightly snapping a picture of them together. 

To the man who held his heart and understood his fears and always stopped to listen to his concerns, he wanted as many pictures of them snuggled close together as humanly possible.


	4. Chapter 4

While Ford plotted away on their next move to finally capturing his prize, Fidds and Stan were finally given some alone time together to go enjoy the beach.   
It was nearing midnight and no one was out at this time to witness Fidds curled against Stan, toes buried slightly in the sand and tide swiping their intertwined feet clean every time every time it washed in. 

Fidds tried pointing the star constellations out to Stan but he didn’t seem too interested as he continued to nip and nibble at Fidds’s neck, the hitched giggles tingling against his teeth as he moved up his lover’s long neck, pulling him tighter with each nip. He was merely a predator who hadn’t had his meal in a very long time and he wasn’t going to lose his prey now. 

Fidds hissed through his teeth trying to maintain a smile but the pain was evident. Stan let up on the pressure he was putting on his burned skin and gently began kissing it in hopes of making his boyfriend feel better about it. 

This was how Stan had wanted to spend this trip, not worrying about losing him but enjoying his time with this man who made him feel alive. A light breeze tickling against their burned flesh, helping relax them both, Fidds unwinding under him not protesting as Stan began popping buttons from his shirt. He sunk his teeth a little deeper then he usually did into that long neck, drawing a small amount of blood from his neck making Fidds hiss and gently push against Stan giggling. 

“I don’t think this is the time, Stanly,” he chuckled kissing his boyfriend on the nose, “We made a promise to Stanford to be up bright and early to help him with his monster hunt and I don’t think we should be tired in the morning.” 

“Come on, Fidds,” Stan whispered into his ear biting at his earlobe making a shudder travel through Fidds that made Stan smile, “It’s just you and me out here, in this romantic atmosphere, a once in a life time opportunity to do somethin’ questionable without a chance at jail time…” 

He ran his tongue across the blood already drying, a loud snort flying from Fidds’s lips. Maybe they would have gone further, maybe they would have just gone back to the hotel and gone to bed curled against each other ignoring Ford’s presence. It’s hard to exactly say what would have happened if the one word Fidds gasped out hadn’t made Stan snap out in anger. 

“Stanford!” 

It was a simple mistake on Fidds’s part, a mistake he regretted as soon as he said it. Ford being displeased at their tardiness when they had promised to only be gone an hour when they left at six that evening was at the edge of his mind and maybe he planned on saying something along the lines of ‘Stanford will be mad’ but the rest had gotten lost in his sea of giggles. Seeing the anger burning behind his eyes and hearing his teeth ground behind his lips as he glared down at him almost scared Fidds. 

Stan felt as if all his fears were finally coming true and he knew he needed to distance himself from this man before he blew up on him here and now. He shot to his feet and marched away from Fidds who didn’t try to rise off the ground, lying there silently watching Stan march back towards the parking lot far away from him. 

Stan didn’t turn back, he tromped back to the car and began smoking, drinking the wine that he had bought to be romantic. His mind turning over every mistake he had made to make beautiful souls like Carla McCorkle and Fiddleford McGucket turn away from him the way they did. 

Fidds stayed where he was on the beach, face buried into his knees and fingers laced through his hair chocking on his sobs hating how stupid he was to say that to Stan who deserved so much better then him as the waves gently rolled on and off his bare feet.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, they once more found themselves in Stan’s car heading out to the Rodriquez farm, Ford having assured them both countless times as they lay awake late into the night that it would work out this time with a little planning beforehand. Fidds curled into himself as much as he could so as not to touch either twin, not wanting to be accused of anything again. Fidds hadn’t been very surprised to find Stan fast asleep in the chair across from the bed the next morning. 

Just as Stan shouldn’t be surprised that Fidds had chosen to sit in the back seat. He’d lain awake most of the night thinking about how he just wanted to leave the hotel room, his head ducked under the covers and his fingers tugging gently at his hair, the anger and frustration that just radiated off Stan physically and mentally distressing him. As he lay there, listening to Stan snipe and snarl at Ford’s plans and Ford take the bait each time arguing loudly and calling Stan names that Stan returned, Fidds realized he just wanted to go away. Far away from both twins and maybe not come back.   
The rustling of sheets and the bathroom door being slammed shut startled him enough to rip out a large chunk of the hair he had previously been gripping to try and drown out the brothers. He buried his head into the bedding, trying to make his frustrated sob inaudible as the tears began quickly trickling down his face. 

He might have broken down completely after the awful day and nerve wracking night if it wasn’t for a familiar six fingers resting gently on top of his head. It brought him back to a time this action would have been the only thing that grounded him after a particularly hard day back in college. When he used to rest his head on Ford’s knee, and Ford would place his hand on the top of his head, softly messaging his scalp like he was doing now to help him unwind. 

He felt a deep self-hatred bubbling in the pit of his stomach the next morning when he realized that that action had been the only thing to calm him enough to sleep through the night. His knee bounced restlessly in the back seat and his finger twitched on his lap as he felt Stan’s accusing stare hitting him from the rear view mirror as they began their long drive.   
Fidds glanced over at the page Ford was writing in and noticed an odd equation he was scratching quickly into the top, their eyes met as he glanced up from his book. Ford seemed taken aback a second noticing his friend watching him, but smiled towards him reassuringly and Fidds did his best to return the gesture. 

“Is something troubling you today? Your KBPS is off the charts this morning.” 

It took Fidds a moment to realize what he meant by that and then he slowly pressed down on his bouncing knees in embarrassment. He didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t, instead averting his eyes far away from Ford. He pressed his hands harder against his knees, feeling like he was being so rude to Ford who was only expressing concern for his well-being, but he felt uncomfortable discussing anything with him right now. 

“If you’re worried about things going badly this time, you shouldn’t. I have a gut feeling that things will turn out better this time, Fidds, trust me. Once we get to the farm, we can make a trap for the creature and lie low until tonight when we strike.” 

He gave Ford a halfhearted smile, hoping he was right about that.   
\---   
The rest of the ride was silent and uneventful, the only sound being the static Stan’s radio picked up and the scratching of Ford’s pen, his mind miles away from the car as he plotted their next moves. Fidds kept his eyes glued out the window, thoughts zooming in his head a mile a minute, each worry toppling over the last becoming an incoherent white noise. 

They arrived at the farm a little past noon, Fidds’s first genuine smile of the day coming from Maria offering them quite the feast in gratitude for them returning after the dismal first trip to the ranch. It was a very strange to have Ford being more polite and talkative than Stan during their lunch. Ford was in such a good mood about his plan being a success, he was more than willing to shoot the breeze with their host. 

After their meal, Maria showed Fidds and Ford to a private area (the guest bedroom) to finish preparations on their plan before they got to work on initiating it. Fidds felt sickened by his relief that his boyfriend chose to sit in the living room with their host and watch a Spanish soap opera.   
Ford sat at the desk and Fidds leaned over the back of the chair, watching him scribble the last few details before handing it off to Fidds to make any last minute corrections. Being in familiar territory once more helped calm Fidds’s nerves significantly. His mind going back to the world of science and numbers felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the emotional turmoil with no solution in sight that was his current relationship. 

Ford turned his seat over to Fidds and Fidds shed away any thoughts about his problems with Stan entirely, talking a mile a minute about how to fix Ford’s calculations on the trap he wished to set up, trying to find creative but logical solutions to their limited supplies. 

Ford almost took the book away from Fidds after he made a few corrections but Fidds swatted his hand away, reminding him they had time before his monster would arrive and he wasn’t starting building until these designs were up to his approval, not Ford’s. Ford shook his head and rolled his eyes before pulling out another book from his jacket and collapsing on the bed to pass the time while Fidds worked, needlessly making remarks under his breath. 

During his third and final revision, Ford broke his concentration from the task at hand and back into the reality he didn’t quite want to be a part of at the moment. 

“What is going on between you and my brother?” 

Fidds didn’t answer at first, making his final corrections before setting his pencil down, unable to bring himself to look at Ford. 

“It’s…. complicated.” 

It must have been bad if Ford, who was usually oblivious to the world around him, noticed their crumbling relationship. 

“You seem really upset today,” Ford began, but whatever he was going to say trailed off with a sigh. He awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair, not quite knowing what else to say. Emotions were not his forte, nor were they something he was used to dealing with so openly. 

Fidds said nothing and let the silence consume their dying conversation. His finger began twisting and tugging at a strand of hair that slipped into his line of sight, knee bumping against the desk.   
Fidds didn’t have the heart to say this was all Ford’s fault. If he hadn’t come with them, Fidds and Stan would likely be relaxing on a beach somewhere together without a care in the world. Maybe, even, Stan wouldn’t be so angry at him right now. 

A tear slid down his face as the unvoiced frustrations began to come out. His shaking hand slipped, yanking out a tuft of hair just as the first sob escaped his throat. Ford gently rested his hand on his shoulder and began running his fingers through his hair, a frown settling firmly on his face. 

“I think it would be best if, after the capture of the chupacabra, we head home. I don’t know what’s going on, but it might be best to settle it in a more familiar place.”   
Fidds buried his head in his hands and silently agreed with Ford; this entire get away was a mess and he just wanted to go home.   
\---   
The rest of the afternoon was spent plotting and constructing the trap. Despite the different environment, it felt more casual than anything else that had happened on this trip. It fell into a soothing normality that helped Fidds ward off his anxiety. 

The normal routine of working on a project together even helped Stan get out of the miserable funk he had been. 

By lunch, he was able to smile at Fidds’s terrible pun that had Ford cracking up, and by the time dinner rolled around it was as if the fight never happened. Maybe they were all too wrapped up in the familiar environment of work to remember the fight they were having, or maybe (Fidds hoped) it was forgotten for good. 

Fidds shoved the bad events deep within his mind, hoping to never have to deal with them again as he settled next to Stan on the patio in front of the warm hand-crafted stone fire pit. Stan offered him a beer that he gratefully accepted. A smile crept across his face as Stan rested his arm around his shoulder and they drank their beers together in the comfortable silence, watching the fire burn.   
Just the two of them at long last, their problems buried down deep behind both of their insecurities. Unlikely to be brought up again, just the way Fidds wanted it to be. ‘Let it be a forgotten memory, never to be spoken of,’ he decided, resting his head on Stan’s shoulder. 

Neither mentioned Ford’s absence as they watched the sun sink down on the horizon, which again was fine with Fidds. If it meant no confrontation, all the better. A part of him hoped Ford didn’t return and they didn’t go through with their plan, maybe they could spend their last week on this beautiful little ranch. Make real farm hands out of the Pines men, teach them the ropes like his father had taught him many years ago on a pig farm similar to this little home. Maybe letting their little week on a ranch convince Ford that having farm animals around their home would be useful and not a waste of time.   
It was only hopeful thinking. 

The sun sank at last and it was time for them to go through with their plan, but Fidds didn’t rise up from Stan and Stan made no attempt to move. Both just stared at the fire roaring in front of them, not raising their heads when Ford slammed the back door shut behind them. 

When Fidds rose his head after a few seconds, he immediately noticed something off about Ford. Something not quite right about the way his fingers kept twitching and the smug smile he didn’t see often, especially not before dangerous encounters like this, that was resting on his face.

“Hey, Fiddlesticks! Ya got everything ready?” 

There was something odd about Ford’s speech, Fiddleford noticed. The way he said each word, and that tone was foreign to his usual proper, light tone. 

“Yes, it’s all ready Stanford. We’ll start whenever you’re ready.” 

There was an arrogance about his next words Fidds didn’t really like and he knew made Stan’s blood boil once more, scratching the scab off an old wound and making it bleed. 

“That’s good, Fiddlesticks, let’s hope there are no mistakes this time around. We only have so much time, so get off your lazy butts and let’s get to work!” 

Stan’s mouth was beginning to shape into a snarl, but Fidds cut off whatever he was going to say by taking charge of the situation and drawing his boyfriend’s attention away from his brother’s strange behavior. 

“Stanley, why don’t you go wait by the barn like we planned and get ready to draw that critter out with Marco; he should be here shortly to assist you. Me and Stanford are gonna be by the machine. Make sure ya—“ 

“I know what I’m doin’ Fidds,” he cut him off already, sinking back into his foul mood and disheartening Fidds once more as they set off in their opposite directions. 

Marco arrived back from the store right as the sun finally set, wishing a brief good luck to Fidds and Ford as he ran towards the barn, leaving the two by the crane-like machine that they had built mainly from garbage. Fidds feared it may be unstable, but that had never stopped him or Stanford from working on things in the past. Their college years were chalk full of questionable things one could make out of garbage, them constantly testing the boundaries of how far they could risk their lives just to outdo everyone else in the classroom. 

Fidds bent over by the control center of the make-shift crane, no taller than the hen house, poised to drop the net down on the creature the second it ran under it. The net was made of thick chains with metal stakes attached to the end of them that would sink into the ground, pinning the little monster there so they could tranquilize it without a hitch. 

That was the plan, anyway, but the machine had been made in a limited amount of time without any tests and mainly out of garbage, so it was really only with luck that this would work at all.   
Not far from them, Stan and Marco stood in front of the pen that housed the bait. 

Their plan was already ruined when they heard a commotion from the barn. 

“I thought ya closed off all the holes in the barn, Marco?” Stan groaned, looking behind him at barn. 

“I swear to you, Stan, I spent the last couple of days fixing the holes around the barn so it couldn’t go back in there.” 

They would later find evidence that their little nuisance was living up on the rafters, hidden from sight in a nest it slept in during the day that Marco had assumed to be a bird’s nest. The lack of planning and foresight just made their job that much harder than it really needed to be. 

Stan and Marco ran off towards the barn, filling Fidds with an unease he couldn’t explain as he realized he was alone with Ford. His knees quaked so hard it was hard for him to keep standing by the controls, which he tried to focus on to keep his mind off his growing anxiety. 

A sense of déjà vu hit him as the goats flew out of the barn, running in terror. He clung to the rickety control panel to keep from being knocked over by the panicked animals. 

Unbeknownst to him, Stan had pushed Marco out of the way of the large cow in the barn who was frantic and attacking anything in its way to get out of there while the creature latched onto a goat beside it. Marco and Stan were hauled up inside the barn, Marco returning his favor to Stan by looking after him till help arrived.

Ford was growing annoyed beside him and shoved him harder against the control panel, pushing a syringe against his chest and demanding he not mess up their plan while he went to find Stan.   
In an astounding stroke of luck, Fidds caught the silhouette of the creature amidst the dirt clouds and hit the switch while it stood up on its hind legs, sniffing the air trying to get a bearing on its next move. 

Without hesitation, Fidds powered the machine and watched, awe struck, as the machine constructed of only garbage actually worked. The net slammed down hard against the critter, knocking it to the ground as it began thrashing against its prison. 

Fidds let out a few more shaky laughs, surprised it worked at all, before tightly holding the syringe and running over to the trapped creature.  
Fidds fingers were shaking as he tried to hold the creature down on his own, even through the metal netting the creature managed to sink its teeth down into his arm, making Fidds yell out in pain and drop his needle. He struggled, crying out for help that didn’t come in the chaos surrounding him. Stanley still unconscious and Ford nowhere to be seen amidst the clouds of dirt and darkness.   
Small though the claws were, they were like finely sharpened barb wire, leaving long crimson lines across his arms the more he struggled. The syringe was now a good foot out of reach from where he sat struggling to get his arm free from the beast’s grip.

Black dots were beginning to form around his vision, everything spinning around him as he slumped into himself, his knees quaking as he feared the worst.   
Giving into those sinking feelings, he nearly missed the lack of pressure on his arm and the creature’s cry of pain. 

Most would assume when he looked up to see Stanford standing above him, stomping his foot into the creature making it let go of him, he would be relieved and filled with nothing short of joy. That, however, was far from what he was feeling at that moment. 

Warning bells were blaring inside him looking up at Stanford’s grin, it was inhuman and predatory and his eyes seemed to glow. A sea of fireflies lit up around him, illuminating that smile in the dark, shivers cascading down Fidds’s spine. 

He shut his eyes trying to control his now erratic breathing, telling himself over and over again he was safe now that Stanford was back, he had nothing to fear being around Ford. He kept squeezing them tighter shut, even going as far as childishly covering his eyes with his numb shaking hands hearing the thuds of Ford’s feet smashing down on to the creature screeching out in pain. 

Fidds eyes finally snapped open when the loud yelps stopped and he still heard the familiar thud of his boot meeting the ugly little creature’s flesh. 

Ford’s boot was positioned to strike the creature once more with his boot when Fidds finally spoke up, his squeaked out ‘stop’ was nearly inaudable to his own ears, so he repeated himself louder, crying out enough for his plea to echo over the frenzied farm animals. 

Their eyes met, Ford’s tense and threatening, Fidds’s teary and terrified. Ford lowered his foot and smiled at him as he gave the creature one last kick.   
“Its had enough, Stanford, let’s just lock it up and be done with it,” he managed out becoming bold and moving between Ford and the creature, blocking any new blows in case whatever had gotten into Ford wasn’t over. 

It was hard standing up right with his legs quivering the way they were, his breath shook with every word, but he stood his ground on this one. He may not like that creature and wanted it far away from him when this was said and done, but he didn’t want to be a part of needless cruelty either. 

Ford stared him down and a smile began to stretch across his face, daring Fidds to go and he foolishly accepted the invitation   
“Yer not yerself, Stanford…please…let’s just go, ya got what ya wanted.” 

Fidds tensed as Ford stepped closer towards him, a smug grin taking over his face. Ford’s hand raised and Fidds braced himself for some kind of strike, squeezing his eyes closed and turning his head away. 

It never happened, though. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Ford snickering at his reaction. 

“Whatever ya say, Fiddlesticks. Let’s grab the little monster and get out of here.” 

Ford put his hands on Fidds shoulders and went to move him out of the way to get to the creature, but Fidds wouldn’t move and shook his head firmly. 

“I-I can get him, Stanford,” he gasped out and Ford raised his eyebrow at his defiance, “He’s scared of you…” 

“That arm of yours is pretty messed up, bean pole.” Ford shook his head at him and shrugged, grin still ever present on his face. “But hey! If ya wanna get yourself hurt some more, be my guest.”   
Fidds almost let his guard down, even despite Ford’s insincere concern, and may have just gone back to pretending that the cruelty was in some way necessary. That Ford was only thinking of his safety.   
If not for what happened next. 

“What’s the matter, Fiddlesticks? You sure are acting funny…” 

Fidds began shaking as his hand pressed against his forehead and his hands travelled down his face, thumbs brushing against his jaw line. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were afraid of me.” Fidds tried to lie to them both and shake his head, but Ford held it still, gripping both sides of his face firmly and making Fidds look him in the eyes. 

“That’s good, ya should be.” 

A chill traveled down Fidds’s spine and he began to tremble as Ford’s hands moved further down, stopping at his neck and wrapping themselves around it. Ford pressed his thumbs hard into his windpipe, cutting off his air supply and making everything blur around him. Fiddleford’s hands instantly went to the ones gripping his throat, desperately tugging to loosen the hold.

Ford let go a second later, a smile still wide across his lips at Fiddleford’s terror as he fell to the ground, breathing hard and clinging to his throat, tears prickling against his eyes once more. 

“Yer useful to me now, Fiddlesticks. If yer smart, you’d do whatever you could to stay useful.” 

With that, he turned around and left Fidds there, calling for him to meet him back at the house with the creature.   
\---   
The creature didn’t move to harm Fidds when his shaking hands had moved to pick it up. It seemed to be done fighting at this point, or maybe it just preferred the notion of being with Fidds than Ford. He carried it back to the house without any fuss or complaints. 

Ford was seemingly back to normal when he met him at the door, explaining to him how he had just helped Marco put Stan to bed and that he was doing fine for now, oblivious to what had just happened. Fidds wanted to keep it that way so he kept his mouth shut. 

When Ford went to take the creature from Fidds, its aggressiveness was revived and it started snapping at Ford’s fingers, forcing them to drug it while they fixed it up. Fidds practically begged Ford, to his confusion, to let him do most of the work, almost fearing Ford would change on him again and cause more harm to the already injured creature. 

At each touch from Ford, Fiddleford began to shake and twitch, which Ford interpreted as his bad nerves being in these kinds of situations. 

Fiddleford was a shaking mess while Ford patched him up, talking calmly to him and asking him to try to breathe to control his anxiety so he could tend to his wounds properly. When he proudly announced he was finished, Fidds practically jumped up, taking the creature with him to the spare bedroom. He stammered out a good night to Ford, which he returned with confusion.  
\---  
The family had allowed them to spend the night in their home while they recuperated, and the trio decided to head back to the hotel in the morning. 

Stan was still out of commission from his blow to the head so he was in the only spare bed, Fiddleford not daring stray far from his side at the desk, and the injured little critter was in his kennel next to the desk. Ford had been in there to check on both the creature and his brother moments ago before calling it a night to go sleep on the couch. Ford noticed how distant Fidds was acting towards him, even commenting on it, and it was eating Fidds up that he could be this rude to his friend, but he was still reeling from the shock of Ford’s sudden change earlier that evening. 

Finally alone in his room, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and took large heavy gulps of air, sputtering and choking as he tried to calm his nerves. 

The moans of pain from the creature next to him had become nothing short of back ground noise as he tried put himself back together before Stan came to, wanting nothing more than to bury this entire event deep down enough to never think about it again and just go back to life as normal. 

His compassionate nature finally kicked in after a while, and he set his attention fully drugging the critter to hopefully take its pain away. 

In its vulnerable state, it no longer looked like something to be feared. It was nothing more than a hairless raccoon, Fiddleford thought, and he’d always been fond of raccoons. He’d even made homes for the homeless creatures throughout their research facility, much to the annoyance of Ford and Stan.

Staring at the creature currently curled in the far corner moaning in pain and fear, a sense of pity flooded through Fiddleford and he, for the first time this entire evening, opened the kennel door. The creature’s tiny little claws were doing himself more damage, running against the muzzle they had placed on it. Fiddleford had earlier felt the muzzle was a safety precaution, but seeing the creature now in its injured state fully covered in bandages and already in a cage, he thought it was overkill. 

His fingers flexed, shook, and faltered several times as he reached his hand into the back of the kennel and unlatched the muzzle. He began shaking again, fearing he made a mistake when the creature stretched its neck forward, but he couldn’t help the smile when he felt it lick his arm. He patted its head gently and smiled a little brighter, seeing that it didn’t try to attack him like it had Stanford earlier.   
Fiddleford pulled his arm out of the cage and locked it up like nothing had happened, pleased that the animal had stopped its pained moans. 

He crept over to the bed and tucked himself in next to Stan. As he reached over to shut off the lights and go to sleep after this long hellish day, he noticed that the scars on his left arm where the critter had clawed him earlier were completely healed, vanished like they had never happened. 

He sat up, staring in astonishment at his newly healed wounds. Lost in his own world, he nearly missed Stan returning to a state of consciousness.

Fiddleford jumped when a hand touched his back and a raspy voice called out, “Hey, how’d it all go?” 

“Stanley!” he gasped, the well wishes, threats of him ever scaring him like that again, and the thorough report on his health he planned out got lost in a hiccupped sob.   
Stan just pulled him him down to the bed, where they both fell asleep, tangled tightly against each other.


	6. Chapter 6

This marked the last peaceful night Fiddleford would have next to Stan.

Fidds didn’t sleep with the twins the following nights; three in a row he spent down on the floor next the creature he pitied. 

He couldn’t explain to himself why the first night, he just couldn’t sleep next to Ford with the fear that he would lash out at him again. He didn’t even want to confront these fears. Didn’t want to admit them to Stan and create more conflict. 

He used the critter as an excuse when Stan wanted to go out and stretch his legs the next day, after they got back to the hotel room and Stan was cleared healthy and Ford had agreed to go along. It had been an excuse, again, to avoid the conflict. Pretend for another moment longer that it didn’t exist. 

The first day he didn’t even pay much attention to the critter, laying on the bed watching a show he couldn’t understand, staring at a menu for room service and flipping through his Spanish-to-English guide trying to decide on what to eat for lunch that day. 

The scratching from the cage was starting to test his patience as it hit his nerves just right, making it hard for him to concentrate on his task. He kept taking glances over at the cage, giving up almost entirely on his futile task as he snapped his dictionary shut. 

He looked over the bed to see the creature scratching against the floor of its cage, and Fiddleford looked on with pity, feeling just as trapped as it at this moment. Maybe letting it out would do it some good. Taking the muzzle off gained enough trust from it to let it touch him this morning and allow him to treat his injuries, so maybe letting him sit on the chair to be more comfortable while it healed would convince it not to hurt him in the future. 

Fiddleford scooted the chair away from the table, dragging it next to the bed and putting a pillow on it. He just stared at his work for a few minutes, regaining his lost nerves before turning towards the cage. 

He opened the cage and let the creature have a chance to prepare himself for visitors like he had learned to do the previous evening and morning. If you gave him time to react, he wouldn’t lunge at the hand to grab him in fear (it had left some deep cuts in Stanford’s hands). 

His fingers inched slowly into the cage and gently touched the creature. He ran his fingers across its coarse skin and crooned sweet nothings towards it, waiting a second for the critter to react. He took a deep breath and put his hand carefully on the creature, avoiding any of its injuries. 

It thrashed once when he accidentally hit a sore spot. He instantly put it back down and waited a few minutes before attempting to pick him up again, calmly explaining to him what he was doing the entire time and apologizing profusely in soft, whispered coos. 

He actually found himself smiling as the critter licked his fingers, giving permission for him to pick it up once more. 

He had meant to put him down on his spot in the chair but instead found himself setting him on the bed next to him. The creature was now propped up on pillows right next to Fidds before he placed a blanket on him. 

Surprising himself, he found himself scratching the creature’s ear, pretending the injured little thing was one of his beloved raccoons, letting it nibble at some of his snacks he had beside the bed. He laughed softly as it voraciously ate the treats he had collected from souvenir stores all over town. It growled slightly when Fidds tried to take back the treat. 

“Ya remind me of my son Tate in some ways, little fella. He loved his sweets, too, my little tater tot,” Fiddleford become sullen after admitting that, and smiled at the creature licking his hand clean of the honey, “I haven’t seen him in over a year. I’m sure ya would have gotten along, though, maybe I can finally convince his ma that I won’t let nothing bad happen to him…” 

“She don’t trust the Stan twins, though, and didn’t like me sticking up for them and allowing them to be around our boy. I know she only wants what’s best for our son…” 

He let himself trail off after that, just resting his hand on the injured animal’s head and letting those thoughts fall on the way side once more, not planning to touch them again. All they did was cause him pain, and it was a fruitless endeavor trying to see his son again. The last he saw him was when Stan convinced him to visit the child without his wife’s permission after school. Stan encouraged him to be strong and stupid. It was a nice memory of the three of them seeing Star Wars together and taking Tate for burgers and ice cream, but once his ex found out he had allowed their boy to be around someone she considered dangerous (Stan’s arrest warrant was plastered all over the mail room she worked in, something to do with fraud and illegal llama herding) she’d threatened to have them both arrested. They ended up making a deal with her: so as long as she kept her mouth shut about Stan’s warrant, he wasn’t allowed near their child. 

Fiddleford just buried it all deep down again, scratching his new found friend’s ear and making him croon in joy. 

“Someday I want to try my hand at making something that’ll take away all the bad thoughts in my head and make everything easier, but I made a promise to the Stans a while back to not accidentally damage my own brain…” 

Fidds let his thoughts and words cut off, staring blankly at the TV smiling as the creature licked his finger once more, bringing his attention back to it. 

“I figure you and I will be together for a while, so hows about I give you a proper name? I know Ford’s dead set on just givin’ ya a number so we don’t get too attached to ya, but I can’t be hanging around somethin’ I can’t address properly.” 

He ran his fingers across its skin, making it purr in pleasure, absentmindedly staring at the TV while he thought, and a grin stretched across his face as he saw the critter watching the show just as attentively. 

“Ya like Carlos? I think he’s quite attractive myself, but don’t tell Stanley I said that…” 

The creature licked his fingers again and he chuckled. 

“I’d say Carlos is a fine name for ya as well.”   
\---   
It was getting late and there was no sign of the twins, and Fiddleford was becoming anxious. He feared that Ford might have changed again and done something to Stanley, leaving him all alone.   
He let Carlos stay on the bed with him throughout the night, watching him sleep and concentrating only on his wheezy snores. He found himself dozing off sometime into the night, only to be woken by shouting. He picked up Carlos who yapped in pain, snapping at Fidds for grabbing him so abruptly. 

He placed a gentle kiss down on the creature as if it were his child throwing a tantrum, and put him back in his cage, shutting it tight and putting a blanket over it to keep it slightly hidden. He hurried to the door and looked out the large window beside it, unable to see anything, but opening the window helped him make out the voices better. 

“---You’re drunk!” 

“Stop dodging the damn question! What did ya do?!” 

Fiddleford had heard enough. Instantly, he was out the door and running down the stairs towards the parking lot. 

He arrived just in time to see the first punch being thrown by Stan, hitting Ford square in the face. Fidds opened his mouth to yell at his boyfriend, but no noise came as he watched Ford strike back.   
Something stopped him from getting in the middle of their fight, some fear growing and clawing inside him. 

Just as soon as their fight began it was over, Stan throwing in one last punch before getting up and grabbing Fidds’s arm. 

“We’re leaving, find your own damn ride home if you want to hide shit.” 

He practically dragged Fidds, a large lump settling firmly in the smaller man’s throat, preventing him from giving any sort of protest towards Stan’s rough treatment as they both staggered up the stairs. Stan smelt like he had been baptized in liquor and gotten his new attitude from that spiritual awakening. 

“Fidds, get yer stuff. We’re leaving NOW,” he grunted out as he entered the room. Fiddleford continued to stand there, watching his boyfriend throw their clothes in their suitcases, even taking most of Ford’s cloths due to his lack of attention. He continued watching as Stan left most of their belongings scattered around the room, merely kicking at the mess instead of making any attempt to pack it up.

“Stanley…” he began, watching him throw their suitcases out the door, hearing them thud hard against the concrete. 

“Why are you and Ford fighting?” 

Fidds didn’t know why he was asking, he already knew the answer, but if he kept burying it further maybe it would eventually go away and leave the three be. 

Stan stopped his rampage around the room to look Fidds in the eye firmly before sighing and sitting down on the bed. 

“He hurt ya the other night and that’s why you’ve been acting weird, ain’t it? That’s where that bruise on yer neck came from?” 

Fidds said nothing, sitting down next to Stan and sighing softly. 

“That ain’t what happened,” he lied, looking over at the kennel, “Stanford got a little too protective of me and hurt that creature really badly, and it scared me. I haven’t seen him so violent before. I guess I felt so bad that it was my fault poor Carlos got so badly hurt, I took it upon myself to take care of the little guy.”

A chuckle escaped Stan’s lips, “You named it?” 

“I couldn’t keep calling him ‘that critter’, Stanley.” 

Stan began laughing, throwing his arm around Fiddleford’s shoulder and kissing him on the cheek, “Yer not covering anything up are ya? Nothin’ bad happened?” 

Fidds could have told Stan everything then and there, maybe the three of them could have found out what was wrong with Ford that made him change the way he did, but Fidds never wanted to think about those things again. 

He wanted to move on without confronting the bad feelings and just forget, so he lied. 

“Nothing happened, Stanley, please stop jumping to conclusions…” 

Stan said nothing, gently rubbing his smaller boyfriend’s shoulder. He decided to hold back his own feelings, letting his own insecurities and fears slip behind a mask and simply acting like nothing was wrong, as Fidds was doing right now. He felt like an ass for jumping to conclusions, but it had felt good to punch his brother, so he likely wouldn’t apologize and Ford would hold a grudge to be brought up later. 

Fiddleford smiled, though, for the first time feeling a false resolve. One day this would all be confronted, but for now he just wanted to be happy along with his boyfriend and best friend, dealing with his problems later. 

Ford soon after came into the room. Fiddleford nudged Stan’s shoulder and made him apologize for starting the fight. 

Someone, Fidds couldn’t recall later who suggested it, said they should spend the rest of the evening at the beach not too far from there to make up for lost time fighting and chasing monsters, so they cleaned up the mess Stan had made and packed a few towels before leaving. Fidds even talked the others into bringing Carlos along with them to get out of the cramped hotel for a little while.  
The first genuinely happy memory of the trip was forged on the beachfront that night for Fidds to carry with him over the years.

The waves washed the conflicting feelings and fears clean from all of their consciousness as they sat together all through the night. Ford pointed out star constellations, marking them in his journal and almost forgetting they existed, making him feel so small in this world he confessed. The comment made Stan smile, pulling Fidds closer towards him and scratching behind Carlos’s ear, letting the creature lick his bruised knuckles. 

The waves pulled in and scraped against the trio’s now bare feet, everything between them as clean and repaired as Stan’s knuckles.


	7. Chapter 7

Stan sat at the table watching in amusement as his boyfriend set all the day’s souvenirs out in front of creature’s kennel, reminding him more of an over excited five-year-old setting up for show-and-tell than the grown man he was. 

It was nice seeing him smile again. Things began slipping back into a normal routine for the three, all the drama stored away for now to be brought up when they returned home, if it was brought up at all.   
For now, they were going to spend their last evening in their hotel room. Ford was already packed and ready to leave in the morning, buzzing with excitement over the research he wished to conduct on Fiddleford’s new pet (and would likely be just as much Ford’s pet, seeing the excitement on his face when Carlos had licked his finger). 

Ford was on the floor besides Fidds, sketching him and his pet enthusiastically. The animal didn’t like being confined in its cage but it had been agreed he shouldn’t be moved often with his injuries.   
Stan watched them interact, the pang of jealousy still somewhere in him but it was overshadowed with a pride that the people he loved most were content in front of him, slowly pulling the animal from its cage, checking its injury and giving him his bottle fed pureed raw meat. Ford and Fidds had spent days creating just the right blend of meats to give the creature they were both growing fond of the proper nutrition it needed. 

It was an interesting few days going to the local butcher shop and ordering raw meat from the man at the counter, who always gave them odd looks about their choice in food and how Ford was always writing in his journal when he came in to see him. Stan had overheard him calling his brother some choice words to another customer, who wanted to know what his deal was watching him reach over the counter himself and weigh the food he wanted on his own to get better results on his choice. 

For once Ford was the one who declared they should turn in early, ready to go home after their stressful trip and Fiddleford couldn’t agree more. 

Fidds turned to Stan and kissed him on the cheek, asking if he would join them. Stan instantly shut the TV off, grateful to turn in and be one step closer to returning home and having their own bed that they didn’t need to share with Ford. 

\---  
Stan rose late in the middle of the night after the groggy revelation that the blob he was snuggling into was far too big to be his lover. His face contorted in disgust when he realized the ear he had just kissed had been his brother’s. He flung the cover off and let his brother have the bed to himself, watching his silhouette roll into the middle of bed, seemingly proud of the victory he wasn’t aware enough to celebrate. 

He had his mind on going out to his car and smoking, maybe getting some well needed rest there if he wasn’t going to get it here, when his eye caught the shadowy lump of his boyfriend curled next to Carlos’s kennel fast asleep. He sat on the floor next to him, resting his hand on his quaking shoulders before moving his hand up more running his fingers through his hair. 

As his eyes adjusted more to the darkness, he noticed Fiddleford’s fingers lying at the foot of the kennel and the injured creature had moved himself as close to his only source of comfort as close as he could, claws resting on the tip Fidds’s fingers as he slept. 

Stan took pity on this sorry sight and, not caring about ‘Dr. Ford’s’ orders, cracked the cage open to lift the already thrashing creature out. He took the nips at his fingers with stride, understanding the creature’s panic, which slowly disappeared as he was laid next to the man who took care of him. He gently helped the little monster curl comfortably against his boyfriend before getting up and stealing the comforter from Ford, letting him lay in the chill if he was going to hog the bed. 

He wrapped the blanket snuggly around them before tucking it around himself, wrapping his arms snuggly around his boyfriend and securely shielding him from any of the chill that snuck under the comforter. 

He kissed his neck and whispered he loved him before rejoining him in a peaceful slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

Red sticky goop slid down Stan’s arm the longer he neglected his popsicle in favor of watching the sun sink into the ocean, vibrant colors bleeding into the water, making it shimmer and shine. Reminding Stan how beautiful the world could be when not grimmed down by all the ugliness. 

He grimaced in disgust as ‘Carlos’ began licking at his arm. The second its snake like tongue touched his popsicle, he dropped it on its head and watched with a sneer as the creature sucked on the stick, red ooze slobbering down its mouth, its razor teeth turning the stick into mulch as it ground it all in its wide open mouth. 

Fiddleford merely giggled at Stan’s disgust, cooing at the creature on his lap to slow down, no need to choke. 

Stan wrapped his arm tightly around his boyfriend, snuggling him closer to him on the hood of the car, Ford’s loud snores echoing from the back seat after a long final day at the beach. Plenty of souvenirs, sea shells and photos (which both Stan twins would likely want to burn later on down the line) were stacked on the back seat floor. Some had toppled over on the sleeping Ford, who was too tired to notice.   
Carlos’s scaly head nuzzled against Stan’s hand and he began absent mindedly stroking down the side of his ears, being mindful enough to not touch any of its nasty fresh scars, making it coo in satisfaction curling tighter on Fiddleford’s lap.

 

In an hour they would be heading home, Stan would have to tuck the little evil beast away just right so border patrol didn’t find the little demon Fidds had taken upon himself to see healed back to health.   
For now, though, he just wanted to enjoy the sunset and the company sitting next to him. Basking in the breezy weather cooling their bright red skin. 

He reached over the side of the car and pulled out a beer, taking a long refreshing drink. This was a close to paradise as this trip was going to get, so he might as well enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to finish it now, so please bear with me!


End file.
